


Carnal Pleasures

by Aminita



Series: *Wolfmen and Orions [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Caring for Mate, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Mild Cumflation, No Explicit Permission, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Pheromones Made Him Do It, Shredding Clothing, Somnophilia, Star Trek-style Orions, Vaginal Sex, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminita/pseuds/Aminita
Summary: Julia and Thompson are in the middle of a Hunger Game style death game being played , don't worry about that.  The important thing is Julia, second generation Orion, can't control her pheromones when she sleeps, and with a near full moon, Thompson can't control his reaction to her scent either.It's non-con that sort of turns to dub-con at the end.  I do not condone this by he by, it's fantasy!





	Carnal Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Editor1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Editor1/gifts).



She lay there, face lighted by the fire and the moonlight. Her dark black hair seemed to be everywhere, the rich color contrasting the light green of her skin, the darker green of her lips. She smelled wonderful.

The scent was all around her, like a siren song, promising her compliance, her warmth, her softness, and all he had to do was move closer.

In his right mind, he wouldn’t have dared. He would have been disgusted with himself, salivating over this young teen, over what he wants to do to her supple body. But he wasn’t, the moon was out, was strong, and she just smelled so. . . Fuckable.

He crept closer, his shadow falling over her. She didn’t stir, and even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have been fast enough to stop him. She was sleeping on her side, her breath slow and even. He watched the slow rise and fall of her shoulder, before slipping around her.

This game might have been about death, but his mind was far away from that, focused on the instinct of making life. He settled beside her, up against her back, pushing his erection against her bottom, tentatively touching her dark hair with his claws, gently stroking the jet black locks, careful not to tangle them.

Any thought of his resistance fled when she nestled back against him, jean clad bottom pressing back against his erection, the sweet smell of her floating into his face, bathing him in the delicious promise that she would be worth it. If he was thinking right, he would have understood the ground was cold, and in her unconscious state she was just trying to get closer to his body, radiating heat and warmth. 

But he wasn’t, and her reaction was the last straw for him to hook a claw under the waistband of her jeans, sliding the sharp edge down the seam and freeing her leg from its confine. She stirred as the cold air swept over her, but she was much too late, as he was already shifting her, other hand under her thigh, pushing that leg of her jeans down to free her body to his satisfaction. He couldn’t help but gaze over her hips, her thighs, twisting her hips to align properly with his, slicing through her tiny pink underwear with ease to reveal the dark, virile green of her slit, already glistening in the moonlight.

She cried out, just stirring awake as he thrust into her, unable to wait any longer, and he had to agree with her scent - she was worth it. Warm and inviting, soft and pliable. If he had been paying attention to anything other than that devil's siren song of smell, he would have noticed how he could smell her fear, how she tried to push off him, the sharp metallic scent of blood that trickled down his thigh. But he was too high on the delicate aroma that had called to him the whole night to notice any of this, to notice the way her tiny weak hands were batting back against his chest or that the lubrication around his cock wasn’t her arousal.

So lost in sensation and scent, her simply flipped her onto her stomach, face against the ground, one hand resting on her abdomen, pulling her hips up and back into his thrusts. If he was listening, he would have heard her gasp of shock, would have heard the pain in the little mewls she made, if he was watching, he would have noticed the way she tensed as he swung her around like a rag doll. But he was lost in how tight she was, how wet and warm and how well her body encased him, how she quivered at the slightest movements he made.

He rocked roughly into her, savoring the wet slopping sounds that came from the connection of their bodies, leaning over her, chest against her back, and pressed his muzzle into her hair, inhaling the her sweet aroma. She was shaking slightly, body scooting forwards with each thrust, gasping with each push of his body to hers. 

By the time he had managed to pick up on anything other than the sensations her slick body was offering him, other than the mind-numbing scent, she was whimpering, rocking back against him, moaning softly as he rubbed his cock against her inner walls, clit being rubbed and brushed, teased by his balls swinging against her. Her hair was a mess, sticking to her face and splayed across her back, dancing in their movement as she shivered and bucked back against him, arms shaking with the effort of holding her up. 

He ground harder against her, feeling his knot swelling and pressing against her inner walls, and she seemed to be aware of it too, moaning loudly and collapsing forwards, forearms in the dirt, face hovering just above it, a gush of her arousal easing his way. He jerked her hips further back into his, sending her legs splaying over his thighs, stretching her almost obscenely wide, trying to push as deeply into her channel as he could, tip rubbing against her cervix. 

She rocked back against him, weak and fragile and soft and delicate, sweating with the strain of trying to push herself back up, get her legs back under her. Even her sweat was sweet, as he dragged his tongue over her back and shoulder, making her whimper and whine, chanting his name under her breath and squirming under him, arching back into his chest. 

He was close, and so was she, by any indication of her scent, almost unbearably sweet, spinning around his head and pushing his thoughts away until he was nothing but inhibition and feeling. She gasped under him, wriggling her hips back into his, and he thrust sharply against her, knot locking them in place and he growled deeply in her ear, enjoying the spasms she made as she came undone around him, the soft fluttering of her walls milking him as he shot rope after rope of his cum into her. 

If he hadn’t had his hand on her stomach he might not have noticed how it was growing firmer, filling and stretching taut against his fingers as he filled her completely, knot keeping anything from slipping out. The thought that she was getting round from his semen drove him wild, driving him to rock harder against her, short strokes and rocking motions that seemed to be driving her crazy as yet again she thrashed and wriggled around him, whimpering and panting, fingers clutching the grass and leaving furloughs in the dirt below it, keening softly and pleading for him.

He nibbled delicately along the back of her neck, sliding the hand on her slightly rounded abdomen down, grinding his palm against her heat, and she came around him for the second time with a muffled cry, making him shiver and wish he had more to fill her with.

She slowly came down from her high, as did he, and sanity returned to him in a flash, giving him the clarity to smell the blood that was still trickling down his thigh from the dark green of her stretched lips, the sharp scent of her fear still lingering in the air over the scent of sex and desire. 

He stared down at her in horror, still connected by the knot that had no intentions of settling. She was dirty from his carelessly dragging her around, grass and dirt clinging to her forearms and one shoulder, hair tangled around her, face down in the grass, panting softly, little aftershocks still trembling her body against his. Her shirt had fallen, showing off the lacy pink bra that matched the little panties he had torn off her without a care, laying off by the fire, one of her legs still encased in the jeans he had shredded.

She turned her head back, her pupils blown wide, jaw hanging open, whimpering softly.

“Thompson. . . Please. . . More. . .” Her soft, pleading voice, broken with desire, shattered anything left he had inside of him, as he could feel the revival of his cock for another round, and resolved to hate himself as he gently rubbed his palm against her clit, watching her eyes slide shut in bliss and hearing the low moan that slipped out of her mouth like velvet. If he was going to loathe himself for raping her like this, he might as well make sure she enjoyed it.

He repeated his mantra of self hate, slowly rocking against her, gripping her hip with one hand and moving back into a sitting position with her in his lap so she wasn’t under so much strain, nuzzling her neck and ear. She leaned limply against him, head tilted back against his shoulder, throat pushed out and showing just how trustingly out of it she was. She looked so thoroughly fucked, and knowing he had done it, even if he was cursing himself for it, made his cock jump back to attention inside her. 

Her hair spilled behind her as he gently bent her back over his forearm, turning her upper body slightly so he could slice through her bra, pushing it off her breasts while leaning down to lap at her erect nipples, rewarded by her throaty whimper and the way she tightened around his rapidly hardening cock. He started rolling his hips in a shallow thrust that made her shudder and quake, gripping the wrist of the hand that was still grinding against her clit. He sped up and watched her shudder, turning her face into his shoulder, teeth sank into her lip.

He licked and nuzzled at her breasts, hips keeping a steady, slow rhythm as he built his orgasm up, shifting her slightly when he found a spot she liked so he could brush over it repeatedly, getting a soft whine when he did. He felt her tensing up, and switched the way he was touching her, sucking roughly on one of her nipples and using his knuckles to stroke over her clit.

She screamed, bucking against him, gripping his wrist tightly, tossing her head back, and he barely had time to cup his hand over her mouth as she writhed and pulsed around him, setting off his own orgasm and making him growl and grunt into her chest as he added to the load inside her.

He softly stroked her face, watching her. She smelt of him and sex and contentment, and she looked so very tired. Carefully he laid them both down, wishing her could leave her be but unable to by his own biology keeping him held inside her. He reached over, flipping the scraps of her jeans up to cover her as best he could and curling around her so she would stay warm. He heard her make a soft noise of contentment as she snuggled back against him, and he gently brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Almost distantly he noted that her scent had changed to something much more protective and soft, not quite so sharp and filled with desire but something light and sneaking that made him want to keep her as safe as possible. Even if her scent was the same as before, he still would have, he though tiredly, especially considering what he just did to her. He hoped that when she woke up they wouldn’t be locked together like this, so he could look her in the eye and apologize, try to explain himself, try to repair the trust she had given him.

 

He knew when she woke because she did with a start, jerking them into a sitting position, tugging and trying to get off him, but the knot between them held her firmly in place. She whimpered, unable to free herself, and he saw how swollen and stretched she was around his knot, and the crust of the dried blood - had he? Had she not? . . . Smelling like that, he assumed. . . 

He felt her starting to shake, and then smelled more than saw the tears rolling down her face. He felt like shit, she must be afraid, if he was her first, and this was what she got. . . . and he couldn’t even answer her questions or allay her fears. He whined softly, holding her back against him, and he felt her hot tears splash on his arm.

Well fuck. He really messed up. She was shaking and crying and he tried stroking softly over her sides and stomach, nuzzling her neck to soothe her, but she wasn’t crying any less, and they were still locked together. 

He glanced at the sky. It would be dawn soon, and then he could explain, apologize. He tried desperately hard to ignore how fucking hard he was, still inside her. She was probably sore and in pain and she was already full enough there was a small yet noticeable bulge to her abdomen. And thinking about making it bigger only made him harder.

She was still crying softly, so he continued nuzzling her neck, the potent mix of their earlier sex lingering around, and she was still emitting those damn pheromones. She sat still in his lap, apart from her shaking, and he softly licked along her neck and collarbone, trying to soothe her tears. Her skin was salty where they had fallen, sweet and musky from her sleep and their sweat, like a strange ambrosia that made it hard to think again. He found himself subconsciously rocking his hips, and was about to stop, hating himself for taking advantage of her, when he realized she was no longer crying. 

Slowly, carefully, he rocked his hips again, getting a muffled sound from her, but one that sounded like enjoyment more than despair. She was still upset, he could still smell her fear, her unhappiness, but now there was the subtle hint of desire, breaking through under it. His hand slid around her to cup her breast, the pads of his fingers brushing over her nipple, and she made a soft noise akin to a sigh, head lolling back against his neck. 

He wanted to apologize to her, but in this mute state he couldn’t. Being already locked together, he could help her, though. At the very least, he could make this as enjoyable for her as he could. He continued rocking his hips slowly against her, gentle little strokes, and considered it a success when her thighs parted further for him. These careful actions were driving him mad, but it was worth it when he realized she has stopped crying and was gripping his arm again, panting softly as he stroked lightly along her nipples. 

He very lightly traced the tips of his nails along the taut flesh of her stomach and was rewarded with a low keening sound and the flexing of her body around his. This was like some kind of fucking torture, he thought, lightly tracing his hands over her breasts, squeezing them softly and grinding gently into her.

“T-Thompson. . . “ her soft whimper made him want to bend her over and fuck her like he had before, but he used every ounce of his willpower to hold back. He had been much too rough with her before, if it had been her first time, and even if it hadn’t, he'd not given her any preparation. He wanted her to enjoy every second left that they were locked together, he wanted her to not be afraid of him when he could release her. It was an insane hope and he knew it, but maybe if he made this as pleasurable for her as it was for him, she wouldn’t hate him, she wouldn’t try and get away, maybe even she'd. . . Try again? Stupid hopes.

But he couldn’t deny that having her writhing on his cock wasn’t the most fucking perfect feeling in the world, that he wasn’t loving the way she arched back against him, her neck exposed for him to nuzzle and softly bite at, her soft breasts bouncing against his palm as she slowly rode him, her gentle breaths against the underside of his muzzle, and he wished he could turn her around so she was rubbing against his chest, wished he could bite down hard enough to leave a mark on her pretty green skin but he was afraid she would resent him for it later, would regret this. 

So he just held her, shuddering and trying to hold back growls as she rocked herself on his stiff cock, inadvertently teasing him with the gentle tightening of her walls, the brush on her ass against his thighs. She was biting her lip, moaning softly, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips in tandem with hers, right on the brink of orgasm but the pace was just slightly too slow for him, he wanted to go just a little bit faster -

But he didn’t dare to when she was whimpering and panting, lost in her own pleasure. He couldn’t help the whine that slipped through his teeth though, and it seemed to have startled her, because her rhythm shuddered and she opened her eyes to look at him, and he stared back for what felt like an eternity, wishing he could know what was going on behind her pretty eyes. Then slowly, shyly, she started grinding down against him, and guided his hands to her hips.

That was all the leeway he needed, shifting her on his lap so she was splayed out and thrusting slowly and deeply against her, enjoying the soft squeal she made, angling himself so he was rubbing against her as much as possible, letting one arm slide around her waist, the other traveling down to caress her clit again. 

She gasped softly, turning her face into his neck, and her soft pants warmed his neck. He kept a slow, firm rhythm, growling softly in her ear, right on the edge himself but wanting to push her over first. Her lightly licked along her ear, nuzzling the soft spot behind it, thrusting roughly against her, and she almost doubled over his arm, coming with a soft cry, gripping the arm around her waist tightly. He groaned softly, thrusting harder against her as the sun peaked over the horizon and he came in her for the third time, nuzzling her neck softly, trying to get his breath back.

The sun arced over the horizon, and he found himself nuzzling her neck, knot finally softening and sliding out of her, cum dripping in a torrent after it. She had her eyes closed, breathing hard, and he gently licked along her cheekbones, grinding very softly against her. He very gently shifted her to the ground and she barely cracked her eyes open, looking thoroughly worn out. He felt bad, seeing her swollen and sore looking slit, still oozing cum and blood. He glanced at her, and she was clearly too worn out to clean herself, so he leaned down, very gently lapping at her folds, clearing away the remains of their sex and the blood from her hymen. He felt immensely regretful for hurting her like that, and he was almost too contrite to pay attention when he felt trembling fingers sliding through his hair. 

Startled, he looked up, and she was squirming and whimpering, her nipples taught and cheeks flushed, and now he was paying attention he could smell fresh desire in the air. He could have grinned, but instead he lowered his head, changing to long, slow laps, drawing a low whimper from her. He cleaned her as he teased her, building her back up at a slow rate. 

In short time she was shuddering, hips rising off the grass, and he was pressed as close as possible, muzzle parting her folds so he could lick her deeply, enjoying her soft whimpers with each dip of his tongue. She was clean of their last lovemaking, but slick with new lubricant, sweet and tangy on his tongue, a finely aged wine, the most delectable morsel. He let his tongue flick over her clit, and she almost shrieked, bucking against his face, babbling his name. 

Her legs were locked around his head, and all he could hear was her heartbeat and the soft, breathless cries he was drawing from her, his name tumbling from her lips over and over again. She writhed, thighs tightening around his head and he could smell the sharp increase in her arousal, licking harder as she came over his tongue, offering him her sweet taste. He was gentle and careful, prolonging her pleasure with soft featherlight brushes of his tongue, brutally aware of his own raging desire, crushed between his stomach and the grass. 

When she finally collapsed, boneless in the grass, he moved up to nuzzle her breasts, and softly lick along her neck. His arousal slid against her thigh, and she whimpered softly, eyes pleading.

“T-Thompson, I can’t. . .”

He carefully leveraged himself away from her, nuzzling her neck softly, shaking his head and licking along her cheeks where her dried tears still were, grumbling softly. He shifted, laying down beside her, gently licking the sweat off her body. She giggled tiredly, trying to push him off, tu she was too tired, so he continued cleaning her, nuzzling her skin as often as he could. He couldn’t help but inhale her, snuffling her skin, enjoying how she was thoroughly marked with his scent over that sex concoction of her pheromones.

He watched her eyes drift shut, still basking in her post orgasmic bliss, and snuggles up to her instead, determined to ignore his stiff hard on, to not scare her. His heart had clenched painfully before, when she was crying, and he was loathe to do anything to make her cry again. 

He felt hopeful when she snuggled into his side, though. He was careful to keep his erection hidden from her, holding her in such a way it wasn’t pressed against her pliable flesh. She sighed softly, nuzzling his neck gently, her hair a disarray with fur, grass and dirt in it. He softly stroked her hair, holding her close, she felt like the most precious thing in the world. He should probably be concerned at how quickly he had bonded to her, but there was no room for worry when he was so satisfied and happy, her scent calmed again, lulling him into complacency.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Um, if you liked this, could you hit the Kudos button? I'd really appreciate it! It keeps me motivated (and is kinda like a “Hey you didn't write trash!” Thing to me) soif you liked this I might come up with more depraved but hopefully acceptable smut. No comment required (though I’d love that!) because I am also a shy bean who doesn’t know how to works when I like something. But the kudos is just a really nice sorta thumbs up so I know I’m doing well!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


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